


In the Eyes of a Goddess

by SkyLeaf



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hope vs. Despair, Pre-Breath of the Wild, Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Pre-Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyLeaf/pseuds/SkyLeaf
Summary: Though, as the princess of Hyrule, Zelda is the one to wade through the icy waters of the various springs to stand before the unseeing eyes of the goddess, as each step robs her friend of what little faith she has left, Impa fights her own battle.
Relationships: Impa/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 7





	In the Eyes of a Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> I am very sorry for having disappeared for a couple of months. I really have nothing to say other than that life got hectic and I was not doing great mentally. Still, with it being Zelda's 35th anniversary, I wanted to write something, so I finally got myself to actually sit down and write for a while, with this being the result. Ever since I played Age of Calamity, I really liked Impa and Zelda, so I wanted to write something about the two of them. In case, it isn’t clear, this takes place before the point in time where Terrako appears in AoC (I know that BotW and AoC already differ before that point, but, honestly, those differences would not have made a difference in this fanfic, so I like to think that this situation might have happened in both timelines).
> 
> Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this :)

It was what it had always been and what Impa was beginning to fear would be only alternative to the apocalypse that had been foretold: Zelda, a strained smile and a dress that seemed at once too large for her with all the pleats and heavy fabrics and too small with the years she had already spent in it, a journey to the next sacred site as they slowly made their way through the hopes and ideas the various sages and councilmembers had been able to offer the king in response to the question of why his daughter’s powers remained unseen, and the feeling of helplessness when Impa stood back, trying to find any comforting words as Zelda slowly reached up to unfasten the buckle at her neck and remove the cape that had acted as one of the last barriers between herself and the cold wind that swept through the Faron region at night, but realising that there were none.

She could lie. It would have been easy, or, at least, it should have been—just open her mouth and listen to the platitudes about how this would be a new hope—but as Zelda handed over the cape to her, Impa remained silent, and the next moment, her chance to try to take away a little of the burden had passed, Zelda turning from her to instead make her way to the steps leading into the water.

In the cold light of the moon, the water seemed almost ethereal, creating the impression that Zelda was moving from the world around them and the laughs Impa could hear in the distance from where the entourage that had come to offer both protection from the monsters as well as unyielding and judging eyes was waiting and into another world entirely. Sometimes, Impa could not help but wonder if that was what Zelda wished for as she would make her way towards yet another statue, if she wanted for all of it to have an end, no matter what form that end would take. For as much as she knew that she should be the last person Zelda could look to to find hope and faith that everything would work out in the end, Impa could not deny that part of her would have understood such a wish.

She was always praying. Whether it was in the Temple of Time, kneeling on the cold stones and failing to hide the way she would brush the dirt off her dress as she rose to shake her head, in front of the stone statues scattered around the towns, or here, in one of the sacred springs, it always felt like Zelda was praying, trying to appeal to Hylia or one of the Golden Goddesses. Rationally, Impa knew that that could not be true, that she had tried to follow Zelda and Purah’s discussions about ancient technology far too many times for her not to know that this moment would have an end, that Zelda would have to walk back to her and away from the statue soon enough, whether it would be with the miracle they were all desperately waiting for or with another broken hope, but that was, nevertheless, what it felt like as she watched Zelda hesitate before taking another step forwards, wading further into the dark waters of the spring.

A gust of wind brushed past Impa, making her pull her arms closer around herself, her eyes never leaving Zelda as she began to see the façade crack.

The water was seeping into her ceremonial gown, the multiple layers and folds slowing down the process a little, but Impa could still tell that it only served to, ultimately, hold even more weight as Zelda took a deep breath and continued to walk.

It felt like the last couple of steps that would bring her to stand directly in front of the Goddess Statue lasted for ages, but, in the end, Zelda arrived there, leaving Impa to watch as she bowed her head.

She was shivering, that much was clear.

From her position, standing a few metres away from the water of the spring, careful to keep a respectful distance to both the divinity of the place as well as the princess herself while still remaining closer to what would happen than the soldiers waiting for them back at the campfire, Impa could not see Zelda’s face. What she could see, however, was how Zelda’s jaw was moving, how she reached up, looking almost like she too was about to envelop herself in a hug to fend off the cold, only for her to pause and instead clasp her hands in front of her, something that did not allow for Impa to tell whether she was mumbling along to prayers or if her teeth were clattering.

She could be crying. The idea rang through her mind, and although Impa was quick to dismiss it, if Zelda ever were to ask about it, if there ever came a time where they would be able to talk about any of this, she knew that she could say without a moment of hesitation that that was a fact that owed its existence to all the wrong reasons. Zelda was not going to cry, not here at least. Back home, back in the research lab, in a heartbeat where Purah and Robbie would have turned away for a moment to go over the most recent data, she might struggle to hide her tears, but here, out in the open, with the soldiers and gossipmongers only a sudden sound away from them, Zelda would never cry.

It was the sudden pain cutting into the palms of her hands that tore Impa away from her thoughts. Forcing herself to unclench her fists, she soon found herself reaching towards her side. The cold air had cooled the hilt of her kodachi, soon removing the sting of the superficial wounds, but the feeling persisted as she forced herself to count the seconds to herself.

Soon, it would have to end, one way or another. Either, they would find a way here, Zelda turning around with a smile that glowed with the promise of divine powers in the face of evil, or they would once again have to return to first the camp and then the castle with the news that they had yet to find the answer to the question of how to awaken the sacred powers. Either way, this could not continue on for forever.

But still, if Zelda’s silence in response to the question of why it was only ever the two of them, why Urbosa or any of the knights her father was considering for the position of the princess’s personal knight could never accompany them, was any indication, perhaps it was naïve of her to think that way. Impa could not tell what the truth was anymore. All she knew was that the mumbled prayer came to an end to instead allow for another sound to join the howl of the wind and the whirr of insects: crying.

Zelda’s shoulders were shaking, and, for once, the journeys to the sacred springs left Impa with a feeling of clarity rather than a sense of dread and sorrow.

Her footsteps echoed around her as she took a step forwards. Distantly, Impa was aware of how the soldiers were nearby, but none of that mattered as she found herself continuing, the thuds of her shoes against the stone path below her soon replaced with a soft splash as she made her way into the water, each step down the stairs allowing it to reach up higher on her calves, little, icy knives digging into her skin as she moved forwards. It did not matter. The cold would not stop her, just as it had not stopped Zelda today, just as it had not stopped her when she had had to accept Impa’s outstretched hand to get out of the Spring of Power, just as it would surely not stop Zelda from making her way to the Spring of Wisdom the day she would turn seventeen.

It felt as if it took ages to reach her, and yet, as Impa finally made her way over to Zelda, she did not know what to say. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of and reached out to pull her into an embrace.

At first, Zelda did not respond, remaining still as if she had barely even noticed the fact that there was someone else in the water with her, leaving the little gasps for air and the sobs as the only indication that she was even conscious and had not become as distant as the gaze of the goddess that loomed above them. She did not react, did nothing to indicate that she was aware of Impa’s presence, and for a second, Impa could almost believe that that would be the end of it, that they would stay there for another moment before she would bring an end to the silence and ask her to leave the water, beg her to return to her tent and the fire the soldiers were surely attending to in that very moment, anything to get her to a place far away from the icy water around them.

But then, her breathing steadying for just a moment, Zelda lowered her head to rest on Impa’s shoulder and spoke.

“I… I cannot hear _anything_.”

Silence followed her words as Impa tried and fought to think of something to say.

Not doing anything to bring an end to the embrace, but also not reaching out to wrap her arms around Impa, Zelda remained silent as well, and though Impa could not see her face, she knew that she was not crying. No, Zelda would not be crying here; instead, she would look straight ahead, a look that was not quite despair, dejection, or hopelessness, but rather a combination of all three of them and so much more settling into her eyes. Most likely, she was already imagining what they would have to say once they would return to the castle, the looks the people would send her in the hallways when they thought she was not looking. And, for as much, as she wanted for there to be something she could say in response to all that, a way to take it all away, Impa knew that there was nothing to do. It would be yet another failure, yet another instance of them returning to the camp in silence, of riding across the Bridge of Hylia next to Zelda while trying to distract her from what lay ahead by attempting to get her to talk about the Guardians, trying to think of what Purah had told her the last time she had been able to convince Impa to come help her in the lab.

That was the only thing Impa could see arise from the icy sensation of standing in the spring beneath the moon, and so, that was what she clung to in a desperate attempt at bringing an end to the thoughts she knew were going through Zelda’s mind.

With a tone of voice that could not have sounded more forced if she had tried with the cheerful edge she fought to put into her words, Impa let go of Zelda to instead take a step back and nod towards the entrance to the spring. “That is Zonai architecture, is it not? Purah once told me about it, how it was apparently an ancient civilisation, so—”

“Impa.” with that one word, Zelda was able to make her fall silent, the fake optimism fading away from one moment to the next. “I… you do not have to pretend. It is very kind, and I… part of me wishes that this—” making a gesture that could have been aimed at both of them, their surroundings, everything, and nothing, Zelda shook her head, “that we could talk about that, but… you do not have to lie to me. I have failed. This will be yet another failure and another source of gossip. Trust me, I know that, but you do not have to worry about me. I will—I will get through this.”

There was nothing for Impa to say, not with Zelda having just brought an end to the option of trying to ignore everything around them, of pretending that they were not standing in a sacred spring at night because it was the only defence they had against a primal evil that was bound to rise again and destroy everything in its path. But still, standing there, finally able to look at Zelda, Impa knew that, just as Zelda had been able to recognise her attempt at lying to her for what it was within seconds, so too was Zelda lying to her when she claimed to be fine.

She was not. She was not fine. She was not facing the burden that had been placed on her shoulders with hope and optimism, not as her shoulders continued to shake and her lips began to turn blue in the harsh wind, not as she refused to meet Impa’s gaze, instead looking to the side as she continued to blink and blink, tears slowly beginning to form despite her efforts not to allow that to happen. No matter what she was saying or how Impa knew that, the moment they were to leave the spring, she would do everything in her power to help Zelda maintain the façade of having hope for the future, if there was one thing she were to say for certain, it would be that Zelda was not all right.

When guilt began to rise in response to her own silence, it was their friendship rather than her official title of royal advisor that was the source behind it. Here they were, standing in the Spring of Courage, and still, Impa had only been able to give her a hug. There were no words in her mind, nothing in response to her own prayers to the goddess for her to know what to say, what to tell her, and, for as much as Impa wanted to think of something to say, to simply reach out and try to take away some of Zelda’s burden, she did not know how to.

So she remained silent. She was still grasping Zelda’s hands in hers, was still holding onto her like she was preparing herself for the moment where the princess of Hyrule would collapse beneath the weight of her destiny and she would have to carry her out of the spring, but she had nothing to say to her, not when everything she could have said was things she had already tried to convince her of. Granted, she could have made another attempt, could have tried to tell her to maintain hope, that she was already working tirelessly, that her work with the Guardians would surely be what would save them all in the end, but none of that was anything she had not already told her, just as it was all things that had elicited a strained smile and an expression that told Impa that they were both thinking about the king and his insistence that they would be defeated without the sealing powers the princesses of the past had wielded.

In the end, what brought an end to the heavy silence between them was the sound of Zelda struggling to bring an end to her tears, her voice small as she finally succeeded at getting out the words. “Why—why is this not working?”

It was a question which neither of them had the answer to, but as Zelda continued to blink furiously, Impa knew that she could not remain quiet. Clearing her throat, she did her best to keep her voice calm, but she could still hear how it shook as she tightened her grip on Zelda’s hands. “I would give you the answer to that question in a heartbeat if I knew what it was, but I do not know what it would be, Zelda. I truly do not know what it will take. I—I just know that I believe that the day will come where you will find the powers.”

Zelda let out a sound that was not quite a cough, nor a chuckle or a snort. “Believe.” she shook her head, and although Impa knew that, had things been a little different, she might have felt hurt by that, now, she just wanted to be able to tell her anything that might be able to distract her from the burden of her destiny. “That is what I have been told all my life. I have to believe that I have those powers, I have to believe that, if I just dedicate myself to the goddess, if I spend every last moment praying, she will finally regard me as being worthy of the powers that—” her voice broke, “that have been innate for every other princess.”

She did not finish that particular train of thought, nor did she have to for Impa to know the thoughts that were filling Zelda’s mind as she fell silent, at once looking at both Impa and nothing at all. The princesses of the past had all wielded their powers for the good of Hyrule, or at least, they had if the legends and history books were to be believed, and here Zelda stood, in a ceremonial gown that was heavy with water, in front of the statue of a goddess who remained absent and distant. Most importantly, Zelda stood here, still fighting to gain access to her powers, but having gained nothing but the knowledge that she might very well be their only hope in a battle against the approaching calamity from all her efforts.

“I…” Zelda’s voice grew even smaller as she paused, Impa instinctively leaning in. There was no need for her to ask to know that no matter what she was about to say, it was not something Zelda wished for anyone but her to hear, the way Zelda cast a glimpse around them before she continued only serving to confirm that. “There are times where I have my doubts about her—the goddess, I mean.”

Impa froze. Feeling how the water cut into her skin, she looked at Zelda, trying to make sense of what she was saying, what meaning she could see in the statement that she could envision herself fit in next to the knowledge that she had seen Zelda come close to fainting in springs like this one, that she knew how many hours Zelda had spent with various sages, all in the hope that it would grant her more knowledge, an idea that could lead her down the right path towards her powers, but for as much as she searched for meaning in it all, Impa found none.

“What…” she heard how her voice rose in pitch, but even though she tried, it was an effect she could not combat. “What do you mean?”

Zelda might have shrugged, but as she finally met her gaze, Impa could tell that it was not a sudden thought she had decided to voice from one moment to the next. “The powers—they are supposed to come from Hylia. In all the texts I have studied that has always been something that has been stressed: the sealing powers are Hylia’s and are, as such, divine in nature. Knowing that and how the princesses in the legends were always able to use them, I have to believe that they are not… that they are not something you have to spend years praying in springs to be granted access to. With everything we know about the powers I am supposed to have, it appears much more likely that they truly are an innate ability that some people possess while others do not. And, since I clearly belong to the latter category, it has to mean that I am simply not meant to have them—”

“Zelda—” she could hear how the theory would end. After all, Impa had not spent her entire life with an older sister like Purah, had not tried to follow the conversations between her sister and Zelda more times than she could remember, struggling to follow along and understand the logic behind their different hypotheses and theories, to not know which conclusion the theory Zelda had thought of would lead to. She knew what would come next, but although it meant that Zelda had already had the thought, had already gone over the evidence herself and used everything that might further add to her burden to strengthen it, right then, Impa wanted for nothing more than to stop her, to try to take away that feeling, if only for a moment. “We—maybe we just have to try again. Maybe, if you finally get a chance to relax, if you ever got the chance to pray without having the weight of the future of Hyrule on your shoulders, you would find a way to—”

But Zelda only shook her head. “No. Your words are kind and I appreciate them.” in the cold night air, the exposed skin of Impa’s hands felt numb, but she still sensed how Zelda brushed over her knuckles with her thumbs as she continued. “I truly value the fact that you are here—that you have chosen to accompany me on all these journeys and that you have never once turned from me. That is something I cannot fully put into words. But, for as kind as your words are, Impa, I cannot lie to myself. I have yet to harness my powers, and, with everything we know about the goddess and the nature of the powers she grants, when I do not have them, it is a sign that she does not regard me as a person worthy of powers that would put me in a position adjacent to divinity. And—even if I want to, for as much as I try, I cannot blame her for that. After all, what am I really, if not what everyone seems to think of me? A failure of a princess who is sure to doom the people she was born to serve.”

Her voice was calm, and, had it not been for the darkness Impa could see spread across her face, settling into every last line before making her eyes turn dull, she might almost have been able to believe that that was a reflection of her thoughts. In the end, however, the fact that, as she turned from her, Zelda was not quite able to hide the shadows falling over her face was what brought an end to her silence.

She moved without thinking, and, perhaps, just perhaps, that was for the better, allowing her to act without regards for etiquette or rank. Had she had a moment to think, Impa would not have been able to tell what she would have done, if she would have stayed still as Zelda once again turned her gaze skyward, up towards the unseeing eyes of the goddess. Now, however, all she knew for certain was that she moved, one moment standing still, Zelda’s hands the only source of warmth in the coldness of the spring, the next having reached out to place her hands on Zelda’s shoulders as she took a step towards her, not quite enough to make the gesture become an embrace, but still bringing herself closer to Zelda than Impa would have ever allowed herself to if they had been back at the castle.

“No.” she said the word, hoping to put as much conviction into her voice as what she could feel in her heart.

Evidently, it worked, or at least it was enough to catch Zelda off guard, if the way her eyes widened was any indication. “No?” Zelda echoed.

Listening to her, Impa could hear the traces of disbelief in her voice, but where Zelda’s eyebrows were knitted together in surprise that she had any objections to the idea of her being predestined to fail, as Impa spoke, she heard her voice grow firmer. “No. Zelda, I know that that is how you see yourself. Through all these journeys, all the prayers and the attempts at reaching the goddess, I have seen the way you look away from everyone more and more with every time we return back home with nothing but the message that we still have not found a way for you to access your powers. I know that you blame yourself for that, just as I know that you are losing faith more and more with every time we make an attempt, but I am not. You say that you are losing faith in the goddess and that you are beginning to believe that she has decided that you are not worthy of her powers?” Impa shook her head. “If you say that, the only thing I can tell you is that I have no need for faith in the goddess, not when you are the one I believe in and the one I put my faith in day after day.”

“You…” Zelda reached up towards her shoulders, placing her hands on top of Impa’s, and, for a moment, Impa was certain that she was going to shove them off, to push her away or take a step back to fix her with the same pained look and tell her that that did nothing to change the fact that, come morning, they would have to leave the camp to return to the castle, the king, and all the whispers of failure.

Only, she did not do that.

Rather than pushing Impa’s hands off her shoulders to move away from her, Zelda merely grasped her hands, holding onto Impa so tightly that it felt like they might as well have been lost at sea rather than standing in the Spring of Courage, the water not even reaching their waists, as she took another step towards her, reducing what little distance that still separated them to a matter of little more than a hand’s breadth. “But my father—no matter what, I will return home to a court that will hear of yet another failure and a father who is struggling to convince his people that they can have hope. That, I cannot change, not when I cannot find a way to unlock these cursed powers.”

“I know.” in the end, that was all Impa could say. Though the whispers might die when she entered the hallways of Hyrule Castle and although the gossipmongers seemed wise enough not to let her hear them, the rumours were too widespread for her not to know that even though the king’s words of ‘disappointment’, ‘failure’, and ‘failing to shoulder the responsibility of the heir’ carried a heavy weight, what really hurt was the judgement of the people of Hyrule. “I know that, Zelda. I just wanted you to know that no matter what, even if the day comes where no one else has any faith in you, I will still believe in you—not that the goddess might one day show herself and grant you the ability to wield your powers, not that we will find a miracle, but that you will ultimately be able to save us all by virtue of your own abilities.”

There was a moment, a couple of heartbeats, where Impa could almost believe that that would be it, that the tentative smile that tugged at the corners of Zelda’s mouth might chase away some of the darkness around them and allow them to leave the icy waters of the spring, but the next second, the moment had passed, Zelda averting her eyes to instead look down at where the water and the moonlight painted her skin a ghostly blue colour. “Those are words I have done nothing to deserve to hear.”

“But you have. Zelda, you are my friend, and when I say this, I am talking to my friend who is the princess of Hyrule and has to carry that burden. I am not talking to the princess or the daughter of a father who regards her interests as a waste of time. I talk to the person who can argue with Purah about the exact mechanisms behind ancient Sheikah technology for hours, the one who can tell me exactly what kind of effects the plants I find have. I am talking to you, my friend, when I say that I will always believe in you and that I beg you to leave this spring and come with me back to the campfire.”

Zelda was still looking away from her, still looking down at the water around them.

Perhaps it was holy, meant to cleanse those who stepped into it of their worries and doubts, and perhaps Impa should be concerned that above all else, above her faith in the goddess and the idea of a divine plan, she would always believe in Zelda, but right then, the only thing the statue next to them represented to her was the burden she had to watch Zelda face. That was not the goddess’ will. Impa had to believe that. The little stone statue back at the castle, the statue that was placed in the centre of Kakariko Village, adorned with flowers and offerings, that was the truth of the goddess. She could not be a distant figure, looming above them as she watched Zelda struggle with her destiny, silent and cold in her existence. If anything, Zelda seemed more like what such a figure should have been, present and warm even as she stood there in a gown that did not fit her nor give her enough warmth to protect her from the chill of the night, wise and caring.

Impa could not recall having moved, but she must have, for the next moment, she found that she had pulled her right hand out of Zelda’s grasp to instead wrap an arm around her as she gently began to lead her back towards the entrance to the spring. “Come. We have to leave.”

And, finally, Zelda walked with her, moving slowly at first, but soon following Impa up the steps to the stone pathway. She was silent, not uttering a word as they made their way back towards where the soldiers had been in the process of setting up camp when they had left them, but as she moved a bit closer towards her, holding onto Impa’s hand as it came to rest on her waist rather than moving away from her to put distance between them as they saw how the soldiers looked up for a moment before returning to their duties when they recognised them, Impa did not need for her to say anything to know that, despite the absence of what the king would undoubtedly have deemed the miraculous awakening of the princess’s powers, everything had changed in that spring. It had shifted, the old giving way to make room for something new, a realisation that saw Impa reach out to pull a woollen blanket around Zelda’s shoulder, thinking about miracles and faith.

The conclusion had appeared clear, and still, as Zelda reached up to grab onto the edge of the blanket, opening it up in a silent invitation, Impa saw the world and the relation between hope and despair with a newfound sense of clarity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!


End file.
